


Acceptance (or How Dean Winchester Learned the Importance of Hydration)

by YellowWallpaper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Image, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, My First Smut, Self-Acceptance, Smut, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, dean loves it, sexy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowWallpaper/pseuds/YellowWallpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has some body image issues that Dean helps her work through.  Grab a towel, you're in for a ride!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you aren't familiar, Y/N means just sub your own name.

 

Dean’s hands were things of beauty and fascination.  You could never get enough of them.  How could they could be so strong when they needed to be and so gentle when you needed them to be?  The way they cleaned a gun so proficiently it almost seemed like they were moving a step ahead of his thoughts.  Or how they could draw out goose bumps on your skin when he grazed his fingertips across your shoulders.  Then there was the perfect mix of roughness and tenderness when he had two fingers buried inside you.

“God I love how wet you get,” he groaned into your mouth, pressing his erection into your thigh.  You whimpered at his praise, your hips bucking with each curl of his digits on your g spot.  He drew his fingers out, spreading your wetness over your folds and up around your clit.  You tore your mouth from his with an involuntary moan.  He ran a finger over your sopping clit again and again, each time dragging a high pitched moan from your lips.

“Uuhh fuck that feels good,” you rolled your hips, desperate for release.  Squeezing your eyes shut you pulled Dean into another kiss.  You could feel your heart racing, breath catching with each flick of that tiny piece of flesh.  Your core began to stiffen and you felt that familiar tingle start in your toes, but this time accompanied by another familiar sensation.  You could feel your pussy start to spasm.  Your eyes popped open and you grabbed his wrist.

“Dean!” you called out his name, in warning rather than in ecstasy, and pulled his hand away from you.  You scooted away from him, just a few inches, but you couldn’t stop that knee jerk reaction.  You pressed your thighs together, a method you learned to quickly slow your orgasm.

“What? What is it?” he asked, raising himself up onto his knees.  “Did I hurt you?” He did a quick survey of your body, one of his hands gently held onto your shoulder as you sat up.  You curled your legs under you as you caught your breath.

“No no, you didn’t hurt me.  It just uh, got a little intense,” you ran a hand up and down his bicep.  His eyes were wide with concern, then an eyebrow flicked in confusion.

“I thought that was a good thing?  I thought you were close,” he said.

“I was!  I was!  Sorry,” you shook your head in an attempt to diffuse the situation.  “Come here,” you pulled him closer to kiss him.

“Y/N,” he held his head back, “What was that?  Are you ok?”

“I’m fine Dean, really,” you insisted.

 “Babe.  Half of my job is interrogation.  I can tell when people aren’t telling me everything.  And that’s just people.  The only person in the world I know better than you is Sam.” His voice rough with concern and arousal, “Please tell me what that was.” He ended softly.

“Dean Winchester, I thought you didn’t like chick flicks,” you chided, sitting back.

“Hey I may be the baddest hunter out there but I can put Nicholas Sparks to shame any day of the week!” he quipped and you couldn’t stop the smile that you broke into.  Dean smiled back and waited.  You glanced down to see his erection was gone, so you knew there was no getting out of this conversation now.  You rested back against the headboard and took a breath while you tried to figure out how to start.

“Well, sometimes I um, my orgasms can get a … little intense.” You started.

“I already know you’re somewhat of a screamer,” Dean said.

“Sometimes, they um, if the conditions are right,” you continued, wishing so badly you could stop stammering.  Maybe you should have just come out with this right away at the beginning before it got physical at all, “they can get kinda messy.” You finished.  Not your messiest finish to date, but still difficult.

“Messy?” he frowned, looking down at your lap.  “Mes . . oh!” he eyes came back up to yours with realization.  Oh boy, here it comes, that look of revulsion that always made you feel disgusting.  That look that you had seen on a couple different faces in the past.

_“Whoa, did you just pee on me?”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Just don’t wet the bed this time.”_

“Y/N, are you saying you’re a squirter?” Dean asked.  You looked away and drew the sheet up over your lap.

“Not all the time, just sometimes it happens.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t like it.” He concluded, correct as always.  You looked back up.  Dean was resting back on his heels, leaning forward on his arms as he waited for you to look back at him.  He smiled, showing off his teeth for a moment.  You also couldn’t help but notice his cock hardening again.  He leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to your lips.  Swinging a leg over your lap, he wrapped an arm around your waist, inching you back down onto your back. “I told you I love how wet you get.” He said, nudging your knees apart with his own.  “So what do I have to do to make sure the conditions are right?”  Your knees shook slightly as you watched Dean nestle down in between your legs, his elbows propping himself up on either side of your torso.  He tilted his head to the side, keeping eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your ribs.  You couldn’t believe that for the first time, a man seemed eager to have sex with you after finding out about _that_.  Reminding yourself to breath, you blinked and cautiously rested your hands on his shoulders.  You had never actually tried to make yourself squirt, so you had to think back fast to how it usually felt just before it happened.

“Y/N? Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he raised up his head again, “But if it makes a difference, I really want to.”  Those words sent a jolt of heat to your pussy.  His hands rested on your ribs, his thumbs leisurely tracing the underside of your breasts.

“It helps if I’m really relaxed,” you started.  Dean nodded and resumed kissing your abdomen.  He kept moving down, licking and sucking as he went.  You spread your legs further for him as he inched back.  Hooking his arms under your knees and gripping your hips, he pulled you down the bed until he was kneeling on the floor at the foot, a much better position for his tall frame.  He pressed his nose into the juncture of your pussy and thigh, inhaling your scent.  A talented tongue slipped out and licked a strip up your flesh before shifting to the left and centered over your pussy.  Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his hot breath on your core for only a second before his tongue dipped into your folds.  Dean moaned in appreciation and let his own eyes drift shut.  His tongue never stopped moving and exploring, never leaving your growing wetness.  He circled your clit a couple times, but never applied firm pressure.  This was all about preparing you.  Warming and softening you up.  Your moans of pleasure slowly turned into moans of wanting.  You needed more, you needed him, you needed those hands.

“Dean please!” you gasped as he flicked your clit.

“What do you need babe?” he asked between licks. 

“Please, your fingers please!” you writhed, your hips rolling into the mattress.  Dean ran a hand up your inner thigh, stopping at your pussy that was already soaked.  His fingertips began swirling around your clit.

“Like this?” he asked, his fingers applied a little more pressure.

“Y-yess,” you huffed, your breath catching in your throat.  With every swirl around your bundle of nerves you felt your legs falling more open, baring yourself to him.  Dean crawled back up onto the bed and rested beside you.  Your hand gripped his arm that braced himself up on the bed.

“God you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered.  He leaned down and licked along your collarbone.  Your toes began to tingle once again and your legs involuntarily started to straighten out.

“Oh god oh god Dean!” you began panting.  Your abdomen started burning with heat, sweat gathering in the small of your back soaked the sheets under you.

“I’m here baby, I’m right here.  Come on babe, please do it for me,” he urged.  You grabbed his forearm, helping to guide his hand, almost sobbing at the words coming out of his mouth.

“Please, harder, please!”  you moaned, somehow now knowing exactly what you needed.  Dean stole a quick glance down at your pussy.  His fingers had stopped swirling around your clit and began brushing over the hard pebble of flesh directly.

“Like that?  That feel good?”

“Yea, yes,” you began to feel your body stiffening, the tingles in your toes spreading up your legs, those short limbs quivering with tightened muscles.  “Oh ffuucck!” you began to moan, squeezing your eyes shut.  Your torso curled in and you shouted out from the explosive sensation pulsing from between your legs.  The rubbing on your clit stopped and was replaced with a large warm hand covering your pussy, cradling it as you came.  As quickly as your body had seized up, it released all its tension and you slumped back to the mattress.

“Oh fuck yeah!” you heard Dean breath out, a smile audible in his voice.   Looking down through blurry eyes you saw him looking down at your pussy.  He drew his hand away, covered and dripping in your fluid.  Dean sat up and looked at his hand and the wet spot you had left on the sheets.  “You ok?” he ran his dry hand over your hip and up your side.  You nodded, still catching your breath.  Your pussy was still clenching in the aftershocks of your orgasm.  Despite its sensitivity, you couldn’t stop the arousal bubbling to the surface once more when you saw Dean bring his hand to his mouth for a taste.  He moaned in appreciation as he swirled the flavor over his tongue.  “I’ve always wondered what that tasted like.”  You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards you.

“Come here,” you commanded, pressing your lips to his.  You lifted your hips to press against his rock hard length.  With a small shift of his hips, Dean plunged inside you.  His mouth dropped open and his hips stuttered in their rhythm. 

“Fuck!” he screwed his eyes shut as he tried to slow his hips.  “God you feel so good!” he panted.  You planted your heels into the mattress and started raising your hips to meet his.  He spared a glance down at your coupling before looking back into your eyes.  “Not. . I’m not g-onna last. .”

“Please do it for me,” you repeated his earlier plea.  Forehead to forehead, Dean spilled his release inside you.  A short time later you both rested beside each other staring up at the ceiling. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We are so doing that again.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

It had been two months since that night in Dean’s room.  He hadn’t lied when he said you were doing that again.  It didn’t happen again for a while though, much to Dean’s frustration.  Or more like apprehension.  As he does with most things, he began to blame himself.

“You didn’t want to in the first place, I shouldn’t have made you,” he said, leaning back.  He had tried hard tonight, but soon you had to ask him to stop.  You weren’t sure how much more your poor clit could take.

“Dean, it’s not you.  Really, I know it’s cliché but it’s totally me,” you said.  You shook your head at the look he gave you. “Hear me out,” you sat up on the bed.  “Before you, I’d squirted maybe three other times but the guy didn’t like it.  They thought I, that it was disgusting,” you explained. 

“You’re not disgusting, I love it!” Dean insisted.

“I know!  I know you do!  But it’s like I’ve almost trained myself to not let that happen.  And I don’t want you to think if I don’t squirt that it means I’m not enjoying myself.”  You paused and rested your hand over his.  “Dean, you’re amazing.” 

At that point he had kissed you and maybe if you were being tortured you would have admitted that you two had made love and not just fucked that night too.  A few nights later Dean tried again.  This time using a new technique.  He didn’t tell you he was going to try.  It started just like a normal evening.  You both settled into bed, almost domestically.  Once the lights were out he pulled you into him, his hand roaming to your thigh and up under the large tshirt you had worn to bed.  He spent a good amount of time just kissing you and mapping your body with his hands.  Then, with a few well maneuvered jabs to your gspot, your pussy spasmed and you came with a shout.

“Ohh shhiit” you moaned, your hand immediately shooting to your crotch only to be met with his soaked one.  Dean grinned and rolled you over onto your back, pressing down onto you with his body.  That night you did make love, but you also fucked.  That was also the first time you squirted twice in the same night.

 

“I think it helps if I’m more hydrated to be honest,” you said one morning when he was brushing his teeth.

“Really?” he asked and spat.  “I’ve noticed it seems to happen more if I’m rubbing your clit.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that.  It’s like it’s the result of a few factors.” You pulled your hair into a ponytail and watched Dean rinse his mouth.  “It’s not too much work is it?” you asked softly.  Dean jerked his head up.

“No! No no no!” he pulled you into a hug and kissed your temple. “What we do is not work! What we do is amazing and sexy. I love what we do,”  He was interrupted by a shout from Sam that the Impala was packed and ready to go for a case in Minnesota.  The issue was dropped and wasn’t brought up again but you knew Dean was still thinking about it when he bought you a couple bottles of water at the first gas station you had to stop at.

 

Your hypothesis of being more hydrated had turned out to be accurate, much to Dean’s delight.  You realized his commitment to the situation when you walked into the room you two shared at the bunker to see him making his bed with a waterproof mattress cover.

“I figured this way we don’t have to make sure we’re always over the towel.” He smiled shyly.

This shift in dynamics had other consequences too.  Some even Sam had noticed.  Before when you were the one to be quiet and acquiesce to an argument, you were now finding yourself standing your ground even more.  Not that you had suddenly become a hot head or anything.  Now when the boys asked what you wanted for dinner you actually had something in mind instead of “whatever, doesn’t matter.”  You didn’t apologize for nothing as much either.  And soon this confidence carried over into your hunts.  Normally you were on research duty.  But this time you actually held a weapon in your hand and pointed it at a target that wasn’t a piece of paper at the other end of the shooting gallery.  You looked out the window of the Impala, a small smile creeping onto your face as you watched the sun come up.  You thought back to the hunt.  Not your first, but you were more active than you had been in the past.  This must be the high that runner’s talk about.  You were on a hunter’s high, and you didn’t want to sober up.

Dean pulled the Impala over at the next exit that said Food, insisting on breakfast before he drove another mile. 

“Good job Y/N.  Seriously, you’re like a natural with that gun.  You’d make a good sniper,” Sam said, finishing off his pancakes.

“Yeah.  I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?” you grinned cheekily.

“Damn straight!” Dean said, grabbing your empty water glass and motioning with it to the waitress.  When she didn’t respond he frowned and pushed his own water towards you.  You smiled, fascinated at how such a common gesture could cause such heat inside you.

“Thanks babe,” you nudged him.  Dean smiled, chewing his last bite of bacon, resting an arm over your shoulder.

You had kept up with the water the rest of that day.  A bottle on the way home after breakfast, another after you all had woken up from missing a night of sleep.  Then another that you brought to bed with you.  Glancing over at the nightstand you smiled as you saw Dean return to the bedroom and sit another bottle down. 

“You doing okay?” he murmured, slipping off the boxers he had thrown on.

“Perfect,” you responded, your limbs pleasantly heavy.  Dean crawled onto the bed, ignoring the wet spots that were cooling rapidly.

“More?” Dean slid his hands further down.

“More?” Surely he must be getting tired at this point.

“More,” he trailed his fingers up your damp thigh.

“Lube?” you suggested.  Another thing you two had learned in the past couple of months was that despite its aqueous nature, squirt was not slick.  Lube was something that helped ease you into that place that you had learned to love lately. 

“Anything for my princess,” he grabbed the bottle out of the drawer and slicked up his fingers with a generous amount.  He left the bottle open on the nightstand and ran a hand over your mound.  You whimpered and rolled your hips as his fingers slid among your folds.  Two fingers sought out your swollen clit and rubbed the flesh around it.  They began moving in small circles but maddeningly avoiding the sensitive flesh.  Dean liked you this way, squirming and writhing, begging for more.  And he was only too happy to oblige, once he felt you were ready that is.

“That’s not too much is it?  You’ve already cum a lot tonight, I don’t want you to dry up,” he spoke to you, a sarcastic tone that only made you thrust up into his hand more.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you grumbled, propping yourself up on your elbows.  Dean continued circling your clit, lightly running his fingers down around your opening and dragging them back up, all the while avoiding directly touching where you needed him the most.  Your breathing soon turned into a whine, a whine that got sharper when he neared your clit.

“Tell me what you want.” He leaned in closer to you, your face inches from his.

“I wanna cum,” you moaned.

“Tell me. “ He demanded again.  Finally, without shame or embarrassment, you could answer him.

“I want you to make me squirt!” you blurted out without hesitation.  Dean smiled and leaned back, his fingers finally moving into place on your clit to give you the much needed friction.  You threw your head back as the slow build to ejaculation that you usually felt was absent and your hips bucked with each pulse of fluid from your pussy.  “F-FUCK DEAN!” you shouted.  His fingers slowed, lazily running over your now very sensitive clit and dripping folds.  Dean couldn’t wait any longer.  He stroked his length once, coating it with the lube that was still on his hand and then thrust himself into you.  You gasped at the sudden fullness and turned your face into his neck. 

“Fuck Y/N you’re so gorgeous like that.  So fucking hot,” he panted, sliding in and out of you.  For several long moments you moved with each other.  Neither of you could tell if it was sweat or your juices that helped your bodies writhe against each other.  As he snapped his hips into you, your arms wound themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you.  You simply couldn’t get close enough.  He fucked through another orgasm, never slowing down until he thrust forward once more and painted your channel with his cum.  You had lost count of how many times you had came, let alone squirted that night, but you didn’t care.  You blinked, your arms still holding onto Dean and he still holding onto you.

“We should change the sheets,” you murmured.  Dean hummed in agreement.

“In a bit.  I kinda like it.” He smiled into your chest.

The End :)


End file.
